100 Word Drabbles
by TakenHawkeye
Summary: A compilation of all my drabbles, with more to come, done in a multi-chaptered format for space purposes. A wide variation of genres, subjects, and characters. Will review all who review me. New: Eleven
1. Crying Sanity

"Beej!" Hawkeye leaned over the cot, face inches from the sleeping man's. "The baby stopped crying."

BJ stirred. "Hawk? It's the middle of the night, what are --"

"Listen." Hawkeye held a hand up, eyes darting around. BJ strained his ears, unable to detect even a mouse in the silence. "The baby's stopped crying."

He slowly sat up. "Baby? Hawkeye, I don't --"

Hawkeye looked around, wild, as he whispered confidentially. "They'll smother me next." Then, moving quicker than BJ had ever seen, he darted through the door.

BJ shivered, despite the warm air, apprehension washing over him like ice.


	2. Alcoholic Tears

"Damn." Hawkeye takes a gulp, quickly refilling the glass. "Damn, damn, damn." He empties the second glass in record time.

Trapper takes up his own waiting martini, praying the alcohol will dissolve the lump forming in his throat. "He shouldn't -- he was going _home_, he --" He swallows the liquid, wincing at the burning aftertaste.

Hawkeye hesitates. "We probably shouldn't -- drinking now isn't --" He gives up, reaching for the beaker of gin once more.

"I'll only drink until my tears are alcohol," Trapper answers, morosely, "And forget why I'm sobbing."

Hawkeye nods, glass held in mock salute.


	3. Spy

It went without doubt that the Korean man would be questioned.

"Soldiers come." He turned away. "Say wife spy, so I spy." He tugged at the shirt he wore, waiting for the blood to be washed from his own. "I kill spy, I not spy. Kill wife."

Briefly, Colonel Potter closed his eyes. "What did you do?"

"They kill us both, if I not kill." He looked up, eyes pleading. "I have two son, need care from me. They die, not with us. For them, I had --"

Colonel Potter nodded, understanding, the sharp taste of bile in his throat. 


	4. Worldly Print

"Subtle political satire," Hawkeye comments, "Has gone the way of propriety, sobriety, fidelity, and eggs that aren't purple." He pokes at his tray, reading the newspaper over BJ's shoulder.

"Water skies, Rita Hayworth, dance steps," BJ sharply mutters, turning to face Hawkeye, "Not one bit of this is news. Three days before this was printed two-thousand men died in battle." He waves the paper furiously, hurling it onto the table. "And not a word about it in this trash, not one word."

Hawkeye sadly shrugs. "They've forgotten Korea."

BJ clenches his teeth. "I think I envy them."

"So do I."


	5. Stoic

"Stoic." Trapper repeats, watching the snow soften before his feet.

Hawkeye falters. "I just -- stoic?"

Trapper glances up. "I can't feel anything, Hawk. Not pain, booze, blood, or even --" He looks away. "I can't even feel the sex anymore."

"The war --"

"I don't think it will ever end."

Hawkeye can't meet Trapper's gaze, can't bear to look at the void chasms that were once his eyes, into the soul beneath. "It will."

The snow is gone, melted away, water in it's place. Trapper sadly shakes his head and begins to walk away.

"No, it won't." Not really.


	6. A Modest Proposal

Hawkeye stares wide-eyed at the young Korean girl across from him.

"She died," the girl continues, "From sickness. We starve, and baby sister die from sickness. She sick from bad food."

Hawkeye blinks. "Why didn't you ask for help before, when she was still alive, and we could have helped?"

"No time." The girl gestures, frantic. "Mama want wood for marker. Hurry."

He gladly hands it over. "I'm sure I could get a few people together to help you build a coffin."

The girl stares, surprised. "We starve. We eat her."

Hours later, Hawkeye's muffled sobs can still be heard.


	7. All That Glitters

All that glitters lies back home, for nothing can shine in the bleak Korean life.

It lies in the eyes of Peg, the smile of Erin, the glint of sun against the Golden Gate. It hides in the crashing waves of the Pacific, the dream of a private practice, the comfort of middle-class family life, the love of home.

All the glitters waits patiently, thousands of miles away, a lifetime away, a hope of a world outside the dim, lackluster war.

BJ dreams daily, in drab Korea, for the world a lifetime away, for a life that glitters once more.


	8. And Together They Cried

They found Radar, an hour after the OR session, huddled on his cot, tears streaming down his face, clutching his infamous bear. He cried without shame, his mouthing forming silent words, as they watched, tears of their own.

And together they cried, Frank in the chair, Margaret perched on the desk, the daily report beside her. Klinger, in olive drab, sat on the floor, wiping his eyes. Hawkeye and Trapper sat on the cot, Radar between them, eyes bloodshot, tears threatening to fall.

And together they cried, for their commander, their friend, for the man who would never go home.


	9. Beauty

"From pain comes beauty." Charles smugly said, exiting the tent.

BJ clenched his jaw, anger rising. "Our residential Socrates."

"Beej --" Hawkeye started, knowing just what was coming, knowing just what pain his other half was in.

"He's dead, Hawk. Dead, under my hands, right on the table. And there's no beauty in that, none at all." He reached for the nearest object, a lone martini glass, and hurled it at the door. The tinkling sound of smashed glass brought a smile to his face. "Beauty," he added, "is a casualty of war."

Hawkeye picks up the shattered remains, agreeing.


	10. Break in the Gloom

"A break in the gloom." Father Mulcahy whispers, cheer stricken from his voice.

He sighs and orders a beer. Nearby the doctors are laughing, working to forget why their fronts are splattered red and their priest had to give the Last Rites seven times in one day. He wishes he could do the same.

The beer arrives and he picks it up, only to set it back down again.

"If you'll excuse me," he says to no one, for no one is listening, "I believe I'll turn in."

And he quickly leaves, weary and exhausted from the pain and sorrow.


	11. By Any Other Name

"Hawkeye."

She blanches. "No."

He is insistent. "I want him named Hawkeye."

"I cannot allow my son to become 'Hawkeye'."

"It suited the Mohicans fine."

"It's not for us." She clutches the sleeping infant closer. "I was thinking 'Edgar'."

He blinks. "Edgar!"

"As in Poe."

"No." He spots her expression and adds, gently, "We have hours to decide. Care for tea? You could do with some after yesterday."

She agrees and he leaves. As he walks away, she reaches for the certificate.

"First name; Benjamin Franklin. That'll show him."

She snuggles the child in her arms, scoffing. "Hawkeye -- hmmp."


	12. Drowning

They begin, talking to drown out the blasts, drinking to numb the pain until they can feel again.

"It's the death. The war would be a great vacation spot if it weren't for that." Hawkeye quips.

Trapper nods, glass in hand. "Korea'd be a beaut if it weren't half blown away."

Hawkeye reaches for the bottle. "Kills me, patching those kids up so they can spread more death and destruction under another man's orders."

Henry, staring at the blood splatter on his pants, mutters, "What's it all amount to, really?"

Trapper and Hawkeye exchange a glance and answer together.

"Life."


	13. Fading Lines

He no longer walks the brink between life and death, sanity and insanity, but teeters blindly, stumbling from side to side.

Hawkeye swims through the blood and booze, straining to catch BJ each time he threatens to fall.

The thin line grows thinner with each passing battle, each passing gun shot. BJ struggles to stay upright, propped against Hawkeye, as it mounts into a mountain. They ignore the fast fading line, fearing to fall if they acknowledge it.

They know BJ will teeter, until the line disappears altogether. For now he leans on Hawkeye, stable for a few moments more.


	14. Farewells

"I never say goodbye." Hawkeye confides, late one night. "My mother, Trapper, even Frank." He reaches for the scotch bottle. "Dad was in a delivery when I left for this lovely resort." He roughly takes a swig, wincing. "I'm beginning to think it's me."

BJ grabs the bottle. He expected this the moment he saw the mail arrive. He watched as Hawkeye's hopes were dashed again, and strained to forget his own pain at the sight of his stack of letters marked Mill Valley.

"I'll always say goodbye." BJ whispers.

"I know." Hawkeye smiles, his wounds beginning to heal again.


	15. First and Foremost

He was a messenger, sent to look after each of God's sheep. His Lord's bidding was his life, and he saw to the protection of the souls in his care.

He was a chaplain, a Father, a leader. He was there for one and all, a kind word on his lips and a prayer in his heart. He was benevolent, a listener, and he devoted his life to those around him.

But first and foremost, he was a man. A simple man, with simple roots, tossed into a war-torn Korea. And at night he cried just like any other man.


	16. First Losts

Hawkeye dropped the needle of adrenaline, pulling his hands away from the man's chest. He wiped his bloodied hands on his scrubs as he declared, "We've lost him."

"He was just -- he was just alive!" Radar cried, panic playing across his features.

"And now he's not." Slowly, Hawkeye pulled the sheet over the soldier's head.

"I told him he'd be alright. I promised him he'd be fine, that he'd --" Radar's breath hitched. He swallowed, staring at the sheet before him. "I've never seen a dead man before."

"War is full of firsts." Hawkeye called for the next patient.


	17. Green

"I don't get the blues," Klinger whispered, the night he was found in his office, shredding what little clothing he owned, "I get the greens."

The others stood by, unsure of what to do.

"Green," he muttered, "Green, green, green." He nonchalantly worked his fatigues into strips.

None of them made a move, scared of what was yet to come.

"It spreads, the green, it's everywhere." Slowly, he began to cry.

Glances were exchanged as they became increasingly aware of the tension. Together, they worked to pick Klinger up, dusting him off, wondering who would be the next to stumble.


	18. Guilt

"Guilt, as the most destructive punishment." BJ replies, crouching at the edge of the minefield.

Hawkeye looks away, to the sky. Despite the crisp night, the stars do not shine, not in Korea. He stomps a foot on the ground. "It's the war."

BJ sighs. "It's always the war. He stares out into the deadly field, thoughtful. "I can't tell what's the war and what's me anymore."

Hawkeye can't reply, fearing his answer.

BJ slowly stands, glancing down at the body laying at his feet. He wipes the blood from his hands. Bitterly, he mutters, "The war."

They step away.


	19. Hearing

They continued to wave as the helicopter disappeared, too far away to be seen.

Hawkeye and Trapper began to leave, the subject abruptly changed to the latest patient, as Radar gave one final wave and turned to follow. Mid-step, he jolted, causing Hawkeye to stop. 

"I can't hear him." Radar whispered.

"Hear him?" Trapper hesitated.

"I can't hear him! His thoughts. I can't hear them. He's too far away."

Hawkeye nodded, reaching a hand out to guide him along. "He's going home now. He doesn't need you to hear him anymore."

Radar sighed, letting himself be led away, whispering, "Home."


	20. Hemmingway

"I thought the war would be glory and honor and all those other things Hemmingway promised me." Hawkeye whispered, laying in the only field near the camp without landmines in it.

"Hemmingway never promised anything. Except a profit, for himself."

"Trap said the same thing." A smiled lingered on Hawkeye's face for a moment, before it too faded away like so many things before. "I feel like I've been cheated out of something."

BJ tore his gaze from the dark haired figure to stare at the sky. Blinking away the tears, he replied, "Me too, Hawk." Then, quieter. "Me too."


	21. Henry

Henry hears a scream, and takes a moment to realize it's coming from his own mouth. Around him, panic runs rampant, his own yells joining the many others that flood the small plane. 

Lorraine's voice echoes through his mind and wraps around the terror that he's nearly choking on. He can imagine his family as clear as day, waiting for his arrival home.

He pictures his last view of the 4077th, it's occupants waving and shouting, wishing him the best of luck.

They didn't wish hard enough.

Henry takes his last deep breath and plunges into the watery depths below.


	22. Her Story

She is an unknown child, her story the same as many before. A life in a world of war, surrounded by panicked screams and blasts of bombs. 

She digs through the refuse with all her remaining strength, fighting to live one day more, hoping the scraps she recovers will suffice her gnawing hunger.

It never does.

She is alone, and is left as such. As the blasts are growing closer, what's one more life?

She rejoices at finding leftover crust and happily bites into it, as the blasts echo her world away.

Her story is the same as many before.


	23. Invincible

"I think I'm invincible." He whispered, perched on the brink of the forest. His blood-red shirt front seemed to glisten in the moonlight, taunting.

"Invincible, Hawk?" Came the only reply.

"I must be -- we all must be. Otherwise we would have died lifetimes ago"

BJ paused, watching the blood of innocents engulf their hands and hearts, blood the refused to be scrubbed clean.

"Sometime, Hawk, I think we have."

"I don't think I can care much longer."

"For them?"

"For me.

BJ lightly touched his shoulder. "I care."

"I know." And he stepped down from the brink. "Thank you."


	24. Jigsaw

"Sometimes I feel I'm six inches high." Hawkeye cradles his drink, staring over the bar. "A Gulliver stuck in a Brobdingnag." His eyes struggle to focus as he shakes his head, unable to go on.

BJ begins picking up the broken pieces of Hawkeye, fitting them together until he's whole again.

"I can't do this much longer Beej."

He knows this is true, knows that one day the pieces won't fit back together so nicely, until they don't fit at all. Despite this, he smiles, urging the pain away.

"You can't, but you will."

Hawkeye nods, reaching for another drink.


	25. Judgement Day

"One day," Hawkeye began, three hours into OR, "Life will give way to death and nothing will be left. The world will end, collapse in on itself, and all there will be is dark. It will all abruptly end in a mesh of chaos. One by one our lives will fall apart and end. No one, no thing, no matter."

"I believe they call that Judgment Day, Hawkeye." Father Mulcahy replied, surprised.

"No, Father." BJ corrected. "They call that War."

Silently they returned to the blood, shrapnel, and broken young men, fighting to maintain sanity while their socks stained red.


	26. Lucky

"Cushy job?" Hawkeye grips the clipboard harder, staring in disbelief at the man in the bed below him.

"I understand how tough you guys have it here. You're forced to stare death in the face, but we have to stare at it in the faces of our best friends, while giving it to an 'enemy'. We'd kill to simply eat, and sometimes do. And imagine sleeping in a trench with the enemy shooting at you from five feet away."

And it is here that Hawkeye realizes how lucky he really is, three miles from the front line in war-torn Korea.


	27. Newton's Laundry

"What goes up, must come down." Hawkeye grinned, pulling on the clothing pins.

BJ raised an eyebrow. "I don't think Newton said that to justify you stealing the nurses' underwear."

He shrugged. "Tomato, tamato."

BJ shook his head, laughing as the two ran from the laundry line. Hawkeye quickly shoved the wads of clothing into his pockets, unable to suppress his smirk any longer. Together they burst through the door of the Swamp, glancing behind them for the possible hoard of angry nurses.

"One of a kind, Hawk."

He raised a finger. "Finest kind, Beej, finest kind."

BJ only laughed.


	28. Not Like That

"It's not like that." Hawkeye protests, upping the ante.

The unknown man lifts a chip, throwing it into the pile. "I can't imagine it'd be much different."

Hawkeye shakes his head, almost violently, and searches for his glass to nurse a drink. "Call."

"Three-day passes to Tokyo filled with booze and card games with strangers." He tilts his cards so Hawkeye can see. "Hardly different."

He stares, the light in his eyes gone. "It's hell. Pure, terrifying hell."

The man nods as he sweeps the pile towards himself. "Another go?"

Hawkeye looks without seeing, muttering, " Not on my life."


	29. Politics

"I'll start my own political party." Hawkeye declares, three martinis and a scotch later.

Frank scoffs, rolling over in his cot.

"A political party?" BJ sips at his glass, waiting for what he knows is coming next.

"I'll call it Pierce's Party -- nice ring, don't you think? -- and unlike all those damn Democrats and Republicans who talk about peace, I'll actually do something to achieve it." Satisfied, he reaches for the gin once more, ignoring Frank's disapproving sounds.

BJ drains the glass. "It won't last."

Hawkeye nods, suddenly serious. "I know."


	30. Postmarked Boston

BJ pauses and peers around the small tent, heedful of witnesses. Assured the only man nearby is himself, he quickly leans over the cot, staring at the pile of letters before him. With record speed he shifts through the stack, stopping when he reaches the one he is searching for.

His eyes dart about, as he palms the letter postmarked Boston, and shoves it into the lining of his mattress, moments before Hawkeye barges through the door.

"Anything?"

Hawkeye sighs, eyes cast downward. "No." He pauses. "I think he's forgotten."

BJ merely nods, softly humming his usual mantra. "His loss."


	31. Practical Mice

"You realize this is how the bubonic plague started." Hawkeye stands up on his cot, pointing at the three white mice scurrying across the Swamp floor. "More or less."

BJ fails to answer, unable to get a word out through his laughter. He grins at Charles, recognition for a prank well executed.

"I'll kill Charles, mark my words." 

"They're," BJ gasps out, "Just mice."

"Tell that to millions of Englishmen." Hawkeye glares, edging away from the closest mouse.

"Actually, Gentlemen," Charles interrupts, "Those were rats."

He ducks as a pillow comes flying towards his head from the direction of Hawkeye.


	32. Preposition

"How easily we use that word." Trapper muses over patients, deep into an OR session. "Dead. Simple as that. We toss the word around as if it's nothing, as if it's a preposition. Just another dead soldier, nothing wrong with that. Plenty more where he came from. A whole country's worth of youthful boys, in fact." He slams the next piece of shrapnel he recovers into the pan. "Dammit!"

The others work around him, accustomed to a war of outraged outbursts.

"Next." Trapper coughs back a scream and picks up his scalpel, as a new man is brought before him.


	33. Private Youth

"The Army made a man out of me." The young Private boasts. His records claim he's eighteen, though he hardly looks the part. "First thing I ever drove was a jeep, and the first drink I ever had was in basic training." He grins, as if he's proud of this. "Left home a boy, I'm going home a man."

The doctors look scandalized by this, and the Private can't begin to understand why.

A week later, as they move his youthful body from Post Op and into a body bag, the other young Privates begin to understand all the more.


	34. Replacement

"Trapper used to tell that same joke."

"I know." BJ doesn't add that was his intent for telling it.

"He used to sleep on that cot there." Hawkeye fills his fifth martini glass. "He wore the same robe, too."

BJ knows this is what Hawkeye needs, a replacement tent mate, best friend, a person to block that hole left by Trapper. It pains him to be second best, but he weathers the pain in stride.

"I'll buy you another drink in the Officer's Club."

Hawkeye agrees."I'll drink to that, Trap."

BJ ignores this, and fights the pain all the more.


	35. Smile

"There was this elderly woman, who lived down the street. After Mom died she came over to tend to the house and the cooking. Always had this goofy smile on her face, it drove me nuts. Grinning ear to ear, as if she were ignorant to everything around her, as if she couldn't feel anything, as if she didn't want to. Smiling, so separate from the pain around her."

Hawkeye swears, throwing a stick as far as he can.

"Sometimes I wish I could smile like her."

He wishes he couldn't feel the dead eyes that haunt him at night.


	36. Step on a Crack

__

Step on a crack, break your mother's back.

Childish games and chants, rituals without reason, followed religiously. These games, these rules present in every childhood.

__

Dare you Hawkeye!

He avoided the house that belonged to the witch, he never cut through a graveyard, he skipped every crack. Ten years, he never broke the childhood rules.

__

Double dare you!

He's chicken, thinks a stupid crack matters!

He was taunted into stomping on the crack, proof he wasn't chicken. He did, and he ran home afterwards to check on his mother's back.

Three weeks later his father served Hawkeye cornflakes for breakfast.


	37. Stolen Away

He cries, nights, alone.

The wind rushes around him, through him, tearing at his soul. His fervent prayers and hushed curses are carried to the sky, past the shadows of the nearby mountains, to oblivion. He fights the urge to scream until he could no longer, until he was numb enough to feel again.

Silently, he cries, staring at the mocking flag above him, freely waving as if to let him know how futile his struggle was.

He cries, until he is spent, broken, and stumbles back to reality, a bit more of the man he once was stolen away.


	38. Teddy Bear

"I had a stuffed bear once." Hawkeye confides, late one night.

Radar glances around, wary of eavesdroppers. "Really?"

Hawkeye nods and swigs down a drink. "My mother gave it to me for my first birthday. When I was six I made her put it on the top shelf. Claimed I was old enough not to need it."

It is here Radar blushes.

"Didn't take it down until the first night after she died. Slept clutching onto it, then woke up early the next morning. Buried the damn thing in the yard. Never wanted to see it again."

Radar nods, solemn.


	39. The Thought

"It's a watch." Hawkeye says flatly, slipping the box open.

BJ stares at his face, waiting for a reaction. "Your old one is broken."

Hawkeye struggles to clasp the watch on. "It's nice." He looks at his wrist a moment, before reaching for the clasp again. "But no thanks."

BJ blinks. "It --"

"The old one was a gift, last Christmas." Hawkeye takes in a shaky breath. "From Trapper."

It is then that BJ begins to understand. He moves over, taking the watch into his hand and placing it in his pocket. Sighing in defeat, he leans back.

"I see."


	40. Understood

"I didn't mean it that way," Hawkeye would protest, "It's just --"

"I'm not Trapper." BJ would smoothly cut in.

Hawkeye would sigh, turning away from where the other man stood staring, his gaze never faltering. After a moment, Hawkeye would open his mouth to apologize with sincerity that lacked a something. A something that was at that moment eating dinner back in Boston.

"I understand," BJ would interrupt again, "He was your best friend." An accusing glance would follow.

Hawkeye would nod and whisper, so softly BJ would hardly ever hear it, "Yeah."

And they'd leave it at that.


	41. Voyeuristicish

"He's positively voyeuristicish!" Frank cried, pointing a finger in the general direction of Hawkeye.

He glanced towards Trapper. "I"m not sure that was a compliment."

"I'm not sure that was coherent."

"Coherence is not in Frank's vocabulary." Hawkeye titled his head up, staring at the swinging form that was Frank, hanging from the ceiling by his feet in the middle of the Mess Tent.

"Not much is." They turned, heading back to the Swamp, discussing the creation of a new hole in the shower tent for nurse-ogling.

Frank panicked. "Hey -- hey, guys, you can't just leave me here!" Pause. "Guys!"


	42. When Troubles Come

"Another chopper's come in, sir, and two more ambulances are on the way." Radar burst through the OR door, trusty clipboard in hand.

"You've got to be kidding me. We've got more wounded than we can handle as it is, we can't take anymore." BJ swept his arm out, gesturing at the full OR room, and packed Pre-Op ward through the door. 

"It's like my mother always said," Colonel Potter cut in, arms elbow deep in a man's stomach, "'When troubles come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.'"

Hawkeye stared down at the mangled chest before him. "Fitting."


	43. Birthday Tolls

"You did all you could."

Bitterly, BJ scoffs. "It wasn't enough." Another name for the growing toll of dead.

Hawkeye nods. "I'll have Radar start the letter to the folks, he --"

"No." His voice is stern. "I'll do it when we're done." He motions for another casualty.

"Beej, you sure you want --"

The ice in his glare leaves no doubt as to what he wants. As he takes a cut into the man laying before him, BJ begins to softly hum, keeping his voice low so those around him cannot hear.

"Happy Birthday to me . . . "


	44. Personal

"Pain reminds you that you're still alive."

"With pain like this, I'd rather be dead."

The Private gazes on, face blank. "Keep drinking like that and you will be."

Hawkeye downs the whiskey in one swoop, grinning as he slams the glass back down. "It's not a habit," He points, asking for a refill, "I only drink when sober."

"Thirty casualties in a battle like that is astonishingly good." The Private looks away. "No need to take it personal."

"Dead is dead is dead." Hawkeye stands up. "I take it personal, _Private_, because those thirty boys can't."

He leaves, sullen.


	45. Realistically Worse

"I'm realistic, Pierce." Margaret insists.

"Realism and cynicism are not the same thing, and of the two what you are is cynical." Hawkeye jumps up from the table, following her from the Mess Tent. "If not a bigot."

She stops, spinning around. "No, I'm realistic. I've seen more of this man's Army than any man and the Army will not take kindly to that man, if I know the Army, and I do. He's facing an unavoidable dishonorable discharge at best."

"At worse?"

Margaret hesitates, looking Hawkeye up and down. "He's got you defending him. He's seen the worst already."


	46. Sensing Correspondence

"Do you remember," Father Mulcahy penned in that first letter, written in careful, tiny script, "What it was like to lose your sight, Hawkeye?"

He wasted no time in answering. "Yes, I do. I was helpless, vulnerable, and thrown into a new world that wasn't too all together unpleasant. I experienced sensations I never will again. It was terrible and wonderful, beautiful and ugly, all at once." Hawkeye sent the letter off that very day.

"I imagine," Father Mulcahy's response came five days later, "That in that respect blind and deaf are much the same."

They never mentioned it again.


	47. Theft

The doors slams shut on a heavily sedated Hawkeye, as BJ turns to look at the man responsible for the theft of his best friend.

"I'll return him better than new." Sidney smiles reassuringly. "Last night was the worst of it, I think. And the Officer's Club?"

BJ glances at the building, the jeep parked halfway through it's south wall, nodding. "Bring him back whole, will you Sidney?"

"I'll do my best."

"And go easy on the inkblots, he hates those." BJ fights to smile, and looks away, refusing to watch as Hawkeye is driven off to an awaiting straightjacket. 


	48. Outright

They never say it outright. Vague expressions reign in Korea; death, life, sex, love -- all is hidden beneath a shroud of banter, word play, and witty remarks. Yet through their meaningless words, their empty gestures, they convey more than if they were to bare their souls to the harsh Korean winds.

They never say it outright -- he never dares to. Yet afterward, while BJ feigns sleep, he imagines he can hear the soft words drifting, landing like a kiss on their recipient. Sometimes he thinks he does.

It is then that he almost -- _almost _-- responds, outright.


	49. Thursday

"Thursday night." BJ repeats. "I should be back home playing Bingo with Peg at the local Legion." He grunts as he struggles to tighten the band around the arm. "Not amputating a limb from a kid."

"Poker night in Crabapple Cove." Hawkeye sighs, as he works to remove a kidney beyond repair. "Jack Rexel's winning what's rightfully mine as we speak."

Charles looks up, wistful. "A symphony by Boston's finest orchestra, with first class box seats."

"Mildred's probably over at Grace and Marty's right now, having our weekly game of Hearts."

They falter. Oddly enough, the abrupt silence seems fitting.


	50. Wilde Ferret

Frank glares as he swipes the creamed corn from his eyes. "I'll have you know I am a Major!"

"Really, Frank? I never noticed."

"Just you wait, Pierce. Potter can't ignore me now. Court-martial for insubordination!"

BJ looks up. "On what grounds, Frank?"

"On the grounds that throwing a corn-filled surgical glove in a higher-ranking officer's face is disrespectful, a waste of rations, highly unmilitary, and -- and degeneratable!" He turns away, fuming.

"Oscar Wilde put it best," Hawkeye mutters, watching as Frank storms away, "'Some cause happiness wherever they go, others whenever they go.'"

BJ snorts into his martini.


	51. Expectations

During their first expectancy, Trapper went straight to the local bar, drunk in record time. He cried out of fear that night, held tightly in his wife's arms.

The second time, he eyed the child they already had. In the dark, as they readied for bed, Trapper cried again, joy the culprit of his tears.

Listening to Louise the third time around, Trapper merely kissed her, already a pro. Five weeks later he sobbed with her as the miscarriage was confirmed.

Home from Korea, he found Louise already three months along the way. He cursed and left, crying once more.


	52. Protestant Minister

"It's easier to accept 'death do you part' when you die at thirty-five, Father."

"The sanctity of the institution, Hawkeye. As a man of the Catholic faith, condoning divorce --"

"You don't have to condone it. You don't even have to accept it. All I'm asking is you support her as a friend and --"

"It's morally wrong!"

"It's a salvation of her sanity!"

Father Mulcahy jumps up. "I won't mention it to her, if that's what you want. But if it's support she needs, I suggest you find a Protestant minister!"

He storms out, a prayer at the ready.


	53. Truths of a Varying Kind

"It'll pass soon." Hawkeye calls, leaning against the latrine wall. He doesn't mention that here, all things will pass sooner or later.

BJ pauses in his retching to choke out, "Not soon enough."

"It's your first week. Give it time." 

There is a coughing sound, followed by clanging of the door as BJ stumbles over. "I almost think that would be worse, seeing a kid with his lung hanging out and not getting sick."

They make their way over to the Swamp, eager for what little distractions they can scrounge up.

Hawkeye hesitates before answering, unable to lie. "It is."


	54. Unceremonial Ceremonies

"Problem there, McIntyre?"

Trapper looks up, shaken. "It's the heart. A piece of the jeep shot clear through, amazing he's alive at all."

Henry nods. "He was closest when the damn thing exploded. Anything you can do?"

"I don't -- yes. I mean -- no. I mean --" He cuts off, at a loss.

The two doctors share a knowing look, understanding what is just about to pass.

"I'll get the priest." And Henry does, without ceremony, for war is war and death is unavoidable.

That night, together, they drink themselves into a stupor, each sip a step toward forgetting.


	55. From Above

"I would think," BJ voices aloud, watching as the General storms into his tent, "That insulting a priest was one of those 'eternal damnation' things."

"It is." Father Mulcahy replies, stunned at the man's parting insult.

Hawkeye gestures, eyes wild. "You're not going to let him get away with that, are you?"

Father Mulcahy smiles sadly. "'From above, the wicked shall receive their just rewards'." He nods farewell, turning, and strolls off, leaving Hawkeye and BJ to stare incredulously after him.

It's not until he pauses to remove a tent peg, sending a wink their way, that they fully understand.


	56. Mortality

"Of kindness and of blood." Hawkeye mutters, laying face down on the river back, swirling his hands through the rushing water. He ignores the camp just twenty yards away.

BJ sinks to the muddy ground. "More kindness than blood."

Hawkeye overlooks this, his mind a lifetime -- _his _lifetime -- away. The river swells, filling them with unrelenting currents. "We're all interrelated. And mortality --"

BJ nods, finishing, "Mortality is all too relevant." He's heard this before, and knows it truth.

Standing, Hawkeye brushes himself off. "It's taunting us."

The river flows on, oblivious, as they stagger back to reality.


	57. Lasting

Most men, in their final moments, turn to God, making amends for past transgressions. Others grab the nearest nurse, write out a makeshift will, or spend what little time they have left confessing admiration to those around them.

Told of the possible destruction of the 4077th, and therefore his possible untimely death, Hawkeye spent his predicted last few moments in a way only he could.

When the camp realized their lives were out of danger, Hawkeye's pranks of an exploding latrine, snakes in every bed, underwear up the flagpole, and shoes filled with cottage cheese suddenly didn't seem so funny.


	58. Reassuring Shock

"Traumatic shock."

Hawkeye stops. "I don't understand."

"He's suffering from traumatic shock," Sidney repeats, "Much like the wounded you operate on do, but of the mind." He glances over his shoulder at the Lieutenant. "He's witnessed something so horrific, mentally he's shut down. His catatonic state is the way his mind deals with the strain."

Hawkeye nods. "By not dealing, he's dealing."

"Right." Sidney wearily sighs. "I think his best bet is a few weeks in Seoul with me."

"But then he'll be alright?"

"As alright as the rest of us."

For some reason, Hawkeye finds no reassurance in this.


	59. Sure Entity

He's not sure when it happened, when they ceased being Hawkeye and BJ and transformed into something else entirely, a whole new entity; Hawk and Beej. He supposes it happened somewhere between the gin and blood, a quarter to death and half-past exhaustion.

He's not sure when it happened and he's not sure why. He's not even sure he likes it, not completely. But it came, it went, it stuck, and he's glad, as much as he hates what it means.

It's the absolute helpless acceptance of Korea, he supposes, that gets to him more than being Hawk and Beej.


	60. Exchanging Words of a General Nature

It was the mockery he made of marriage that first set BJ off.  
  
_"You married?"  
  
"Someone will have to get me pregnant first."_  
  
Then, the flippant attitude.  
  
_"If he didn't always return, I'd wish hell on McArthur for this. But I think it'd give him ideas."_  
  
The drinking sure didn't help.  
  
_"Gin?"  
  
"It's eight in the morning!"  
  
"Good, we have time."_  
  
The detestation burned in him like a fire --  
  
_"When?"  
  
"Middle of the night. He went peacefully, and -- Hawkeye!"  
  
"I'm fine. There's just something in my eye."_  
  
and soon was nothing more than a pile of smoldering ashes.


	61. Machine

"Take him to the shed."  
  
The nurse, young and idealistic, blinks. "The -- shed?"  
  
Margaret nods, already on the next man. "It's to your left, you can't miss it."  
  
"Shouldn't we say a few words?"  
  
"There are seven more men waiting outside, we need that bed. Say all the words you want, just get him out of here." Margaret snaps, scratching something on a clipboard as she checks a man's pupils.  
  
The nurse has the decency to hide her utter disgust. "You're not a woman, you're a machine."  
  
That night, Margaret cries for the dead with tears instead of oil.


	62. Relief

It's the echoing screams of pure agony that get to Radar most. 

"Can't you do anything, sir?"

Hawkeye doesn't answer, motioning for a sedative. Readying the needle, he ignores the growing yells, ignores the wince on Radar's face, ignores the crushing sense of defeat.

"Sir, is that --"

"It'll relieve the pain." He hesitates. "That's all we can do at this point."

Radar merely nods. Neither man can bear to admit they have lost this battle, that another man has been sacrificed for the greater good. A good they can no longer remember.

Eventually, the screams stop on their own.


	63. A Hike in the Woods

"A hike in the woods is no walk in the park, you know." Frank insists.

Hawkeye and BJ exchange a glance.

I don't think a ten-minute hike warrants seven canteens, Frank." Leaning over, Hawkeye peers into the duffle bag. "Or a year's supply of Spam, either."

"You never know just what can happen. It's like the army motto says, 'Always be prepared'." That said, Frank hoists the bag over his shoulder and storms out, calling for Margaret along the way.

BJ raises an eyebrow. "I thought that was the Boy Scouts."

"For Frank, the army is the Boy Scouts."

"Ah."


	64. All Good Things

"My father never drank."

BJ finds this impossible to believe. "Never?"

Pausing, Hawkeye corrects himself. "Once. He drank once and instead of a hangover he got me, and as a result, a marriage. Called me his 'lesson' until I was five and Mom hit him with a feather duster."

BJ nods; for reasons he cannot express, this story seems fitting.

"Caught me out beside the creek with a stolen bottle when I was fifteen. After that I refused to touch the stuff until I was in med school."

"All good things," BJ remarks, hours later, "Must come to an end."


	65. Bedfellows

Hawkeye's heard it said that politics make for strange bedfellows. He doesn't doubt it's accuracy; there's no other explanation for the alliances he's seen made in camp. Cynically, he wonders how literal that statement is meant to be, as he slips into the Swamp, another nurse behind him.

Trapper stirs in his cot. "Nurse Andes or Nurse French?"

"Neither." Carefully, Hawkeye strips out of his fatigues, eyes red with exhaustion. "Nurse Heathfield."

Trapper looks on thoughtful, holding the blanket up for Hawkeye to slide in beside him.

Yes, Hawkeye muses, politics make for strange bedfellows, and war even more so.


	66. Chipped

Margaret ignores the tips of her fingers, stained red, and carefully adds another coat to her nails. She tries, in vain, to cover the traces of blood that refuse to scrub clean. Outside, the war storms on. A soft curse escapes her lips as the quaking outcome of artillery shots causes her to slip, smudging her cautious work.

"Margaret, I tell you, it's just not fair!"

"Oh, Frank." She looks up, exasperated, glaring at her ruined nail. "We're in a war, surrounded by death, starvation, and filth. Of course it's not fair." Lifting a hand, she gingerly blows on it.


	67. Klinger 22

"I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't." Klinger tries to explain, sinking in defeat.

"Come again?"

"I tell them that I'm crazy and shouldn't be in a war, they come back with 'Only a sane man would hate a war'. So I tell them I want to fight, that war is the best thing, and what do they do? Tell me I can stay, then, if I like it so much!"

"Oh."

Klinger tugs at his dress. "It's useless, all of this. No point in any of it."

In his distress, he misses the aching nod of agreement.


	68. Reduced Reduction

" . . . A slight reduced reduction in production . . . "

"Production of what?" Hawkeye mutters. "Wounded? We're a hospital!"

" . . . Two out of every four in five patients . . . "

BJ stares, transfixed, as Frank barrels on. "I honestly think he just made that statistic up."

"Fixed ratios." Hawkeye muffles a laugh. "The beauty of Frank's command."

"A contradiction in terms."

They fall silent for a moment, watching. "Suppose Radar's zoo _accidentally_ got loose in his commanding tent?"

"So long as it doesn't interfere with production."

Hawkeye grins. "Of course not."


	69. Dust

A thick layer of dust coats the martini glass now. Carefully, Hawkeye pulls it down from the high shelf, inspecting the once familiar texture and shape. Fingerprints line the glass and he reaches for a cloth to swipe it clean. One last look, and the glass is returned to it's place.

Hawkeye turns to the package. There, sparkling clean, lies a twin glass, wrapped in newspaper. A note rests tucked inside.

I think, it reads, he would have wanted you to have this. It is signed Peg.

It takes no time to smash the glasses until only tiny shards remain.


	70. Fortune

The cookies with printed verses inside were Father Mulcahy's idea. He claimed they would make a wonderful addition to Sunday meals, and sent an order out at the first moment.

Hearing about the cookies with slips of paper, General Nekton insisted on three crates full for the party next month. Instead of bible verses, words of a far racier variety were printed.

When the company in Detroit mixed the orders, sending the 4077th the General's order, all but Father Mulcahy had to agree; the Chinese cookies did make for a wonderful addition. In no time, another order was sent out.


	71. Happily

"I told him he was going home." BJ sighs. "I should have watched him harder. Maybe if I had --"

"Don't." Margaret breaks in. "The damage was too severe, you did everything you possibly could. And then some." They stand, side by side, watching as the lackeys of Grave Registration load the man's remains into the truck.

"It never gets easier, does it?"

Margaret doesn't answer. A beat passes, and she walks away without a word, across the blood-stained soil and to the solitude of her tent.

She remembers, as tears silently fall, that happily ever after is never guaranteed.


	72. Hypnotic Sarcasm

"Sarcasm is not your strong suit." BJ mutters, sardonically.

Hawkeye hardly looks up, entranced by the swirling gin before him. "I like to think it suits me rather well."

BJ disregards the flippant retort, loudly shuffling the letter before him so his meaning cannot be lost.

Hawkeye coughs and looks away. He hears the meaning loud and clear. Briefly, he considers asking Beej to stay, to never leave him behind, but he knows that isn't fair of him, and buries the urge under blood and alcohol.

A moment passes in silence, and he resumes staring into the glass he holds.


	73. Rain

Perched on the edge of his cot, BJ watches the rhythmic fall of the rain, unconsciously swaying to the hidden beat. Outside, the soil washes away, a world of mud in it's place. The steady _pit-pat _lulls him into a state he can't rightly name, and doesn't care to. Wounded are on the way, and the slippery ground will prove to be a nuisance, but for now, BJ welcomes the rain.

Slipping inside a poncho, he wonders if the rain will wash them all away, and take the war with it.

Only part of him wishes the downpour would end.


	74. The Old Man and the Sea

A widower, they call him. He supposes, technically, that's what he is. An elderly man, a life alone for the better part of ten years.

He looks without seeing into the sea that laps at his feet. His shoes soak through, and dimly he feels without feeling. Gently, calling to him, the tide rolls in and out, hypnotic. He finds himself drawn in, unable to quench the urge to touch the waves, feel them without falling.

A widower, and a life of lonely misery. 

With calculating steps, he begins his walk, pausing only once to glance back at the shore.


	75. Counting Bodies

"Listen, _Captain_," General Barr gritted his teeth, shoving a finger in Hawkeye's general direction, "I've seen your type before, and I'll have you know something. You think you're high and mighty, a better man than this war? Sitting back here, patching men I so _carelessly_ tossed into crossfire?" He sneered. "You're not."

Hawkeye only blinked.

"'Kill the men, count the bodies'; it's my job, you hear me? My damn job. Yours is at the operating table; mine is on a battlefield." He looked away. "You think I enjoy it, Captain? You couldn't be further from the truth."

Forcefully, he drank.


	76. Don Juan

"A Casanova. A Don Juan." Hawkeye gestured to himself, smiling triumphantly.

"You're sure she called you a Don Juan?" BJ raised an eyebrow, peering over his latest medical journal.

Hawkeye scoffed. "Of course. What else could she have said?" He fell to his cot, mind filled with thoughts of flattering Nurse Cravens.

Annoyed, Charles looked up from his book. "Perhaps she meant 'Don Quixote' instead. Now if you two could kindly keep your inane thoughts to yourselves --" He ignored the look of disbelief coming from Hawkeye's direction. 

Glaring at where BJ sat doubled over in laughter, Hawkeye turned away.


	77. Fable

"There's a fable," Sidney replies, "about a man and a tiger. The man, pursued by the tiger, is driven off a cliff. Halfway down, he manages to grasp a branch. Above him, the tiger waits, growling. Below him, another tiger is snarling. The man knows he is going to die."

"Between a tiger and a hard place." Hawkeye mutters.

"Just then, the man sees a strawberry on the branch, and he eats it. One of the sweetest thing he's ever tasted."

Hawkeye stares. "And?"

"And he fell and died a gruesome death."

"Some fable."

"I never said it was good."


	78. Logical

It was a logical question, he supposed.

"When I was nine," Hawkeye would begin, "My Grandfather bought me a small rifle. I was so excited -- you have to understand I was the only kid who had one -- and so eager to try it out. I found a wounded rabbit and tried to put it out of it's misery. It was the bloodiest mess I've ever seen. I started out so enthusiastic, and ended up sobbing and shaking so hard I could hardly get home." A pointed look would follow. "I haven't touched a gun since."

A logical answer.


	79. Lost at Sea

"We've got another ambulance and a chopper on the way!"

"Three straight days and they keep coming," BJ mutters, reaching for a look beneath a bandage. "You'd think they would run out."

"They never run out." Hawkeye sighs, pulling himself to his feet, and turns to look at the sun rising into the blood-red sky. Softly, he begins to recite, "'Red sky at night, soldiers delight. Red sky in the morn, surgeons take warn'."

BJ snaps his head up. "I thought that was for sailors."

"Lost at sea is lost at sea," He moves away, "With or without the water."


	80. Mentioning

"Now that you come to mention it --"

"I didn't." BJ breaks in, flatly.

A cough. "You said --"

BJ looks away, a hint of disgust on his face. "You hear what you want, and disregard everything else." Biting back his anger, he stands up, reaching for the still.

Hawkeye is silent for a moment. "I didn't --" He pauses, and starts again. "I'm sorry."

Slowly, BJ turns around, eyes searching. "Do you even know what for?"

The absence of answer is answer enough.

"I thought so." He turns his back on Hawkeye, muttering beneath his breath. Carefully, he leaves.


	81. Cavernous Bed

Before Korea, Peg never realized how large the bed was. Beside her, the cavernous space lays a painful memory that she is alone. Nights pass, longer than before, and Peg soon takes to keeping Erin with her. The presence of a body, no matter how small, serves as comfort.

She dreams of her khaki surgeon. The dreams swell, filling her and the empty space. She imagines the man whose face she would never dare admit to forgetting.

The nights grow colder and the bed grows larger, until Peg can no longer remember the feel of a body in her bed.


	82. Disguised Blessings

He doesn't dream anymore, exhaustion far too great to allow even a hint of a dream. A blessing in disguise, for what dreams could occur in war other than nightmares? Asleep and awake, quick and simple. No interruptions to his subconscious, no talking in his sleep to a figure no one else can see, nothing except the morning (or evening or night or afternoon) call of duty.

Korea has washed away all dreams, leaving him alive in a nightmare. Yes, a blessing in disguise.

He wishes, sometimes, that the dreams would come -- perhaps then he could remember her face.


	83. A Few Words

Glaring best as he can, Trapper nurses the rapidly forming bruise. Times like these, he wishes he had a stake to apply to the swollen eye.

"No, actually," He ignores the pain, "That part of the date went well."

"Then?" Hawkeye prods, unable to let it rest.

"She dropped a few words like 'meant to be', 'love', and 'future'. I had to tell her I was married with two kids waiting back home."

"And then she gave you the black eye."

"No," Trapper winces, feeling for the damage done, "But how was I to know she had a rock collection?"


	84. Gentlemen

She recalls his love letters and the way he would fight for her, unafraid to slug a man for merely looking at her, no matter the opponent's size. The way he held doors and pulled out chairs for her. A gentleman in every sense of the word.

Margaret rolls over, divorce papers clutched tightly in her hand. She's not sure exactly when things began to turn, but it did and here she was. Alone in the middle of a war, tear-stained divorce papers holding her hand in a way he hadn't for months.

Gentlemen, she thinks, are far from that.


	85. If Two of Them Are Dead

Tray in hand, Colonel Potter lowers himself onto a bench. " I heard a fascinating story from Frank. It seemed to involve sedatives, Frank, a tobacco pipe, General MacArthur, and you two. Doozy of a tale. I think he used the words 'court-martial' to describe it, if memory serves."

Hawkeye snaps his head up, eyes glinting. "He -- that ferret!"

"That fink!" BJ slaps a hand down, rattling his tray. "I thought we had a deal with him."

Colonel Potter raises an eyebrow. "Just goes to show you boys. Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead."


	86. Slip

Together they watch as BJ rages out the door, letting it slam shut.

"I -- I thought he knew." Hawkeye looks dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth agape. "I wouldn't have said -- I thought he knew."

Charles stares after the lone figure halfway across the camp. Beside him, Hawkeye drops his head into his hands, letting out a groan. "I thought he _knew_."

Shooting his companion a disinterested look, Charles offhandedly recites, "'Better to slip with foot than tongue'."

"You always know what to say, Charles." Hawkeye pauses, then adds, as if making a mental note, "Next time, banana peel."


	87. The Prayer of St Francis

Having nearly reached the end of his tale, gripping his St. Christopher medal in white knuckles, the soldier begins to cry.

"I left. His legs blown right out from under him, but these docs do wonders; he could have lived. Damn my orders to retreat, I should have gone back for him." Outright weeping, he turns.

Father Mulcahy watches, taking a deep breath, and quietly breaks through the sobs. "Do you remember the prayer of St. Francis?"

A puzzled look. "Lord, give me strength to accept the things I cannot change?"

A knowing stare and the point is driven home.


	88. Tradition

Two mornings out of every week, Radar rises with the sun and staggers to Colonel Potter's tent, bearing coffee. Once roused and alert, the Colonel parts with the Company Clerk, silently striding to the stable tucked behind the motor pool. There, brush in hand, he tells his silent audience of the war's worries; the Private who would never again see home, the General who killed freely, the morale no one could locate.

Two mornings out of every week the sun meets a man and his horse. Seven evenings out of every week it sets on a man and his patient.


	89. Still

"My god, it actually worked." Disbelief hung thickly in the air.

Trapper glanced up, fastening the final tube together. "There's a ringing endorsement, if I've ever heard one." Standing up, he brushed his hands off and pointed to the beaker. "Care to do the honors?"

"My pleasure." Hawkeye grinned and reached toward the newly constructed still, filling a glass with the waiting liquid. "Now, this doesn't mean we have a problem, just because we've built a still." Quickly, he drained the glass, reaching for another. "We're hardly alcoholics."

"Hardly." Trapper paused. "Now quit the chatter and hand the booze over."


	90. After

The helicopter rises from view as BJ turns the engine over, guiding the motorcycle down the ridge for one last look. War has come and gone, its mark forever imprinted on Korean soil. Hesitating, he slowly weaves through the skeleton building frames, stopping before the Swamp's remains.

He glances over his shoulder, the final echo of helicopter blades fading into the distance. Cutting the engine off, BJ slides from the seat and staggers through what had once been the Swamp door only hours before. He makes his way around to where his cot once stood.

Openly, he begins to weep.


	91. Bygones

"I'm sorry, sir --" Radar fumbles for the phone.

"I know, son, I'm sure you didn't mean it." Sighing, Colonel Potter runs a hand through his hair. "Just get on the horn to HQ, PDQ, and straighten this out."

"Yes, sir." Chewing his lip, Radar shoots a glance to Klinger. "Sir, I --"

"Let bygones be bygones, Radar." Colonel Potter turns. "I'll be in the office, if you need my Hancock."

"Yes, Colonel." As the elder man disappears, Radar hesitates, wondering aloud, "What _are _bygones?"

Klinger shrugs. "A type of fish, I think."

"Ah." The young Clerk nods in understanding.


	92. Cigar Box

It was during a thorough cleaning of the storage closet, six months after Louise's death, that Frank stumbled upon the long forgotten cigar box. Layers of dust covered it, faded pictures of adorned Indians decorating the sides. Anticipatory, in a way the reminded him of Christmas, Frank opened the box.

He knew just what was waiting to stare back at him; a lock of golden hair, a bottle of cologne given as a present, one silk stocking, and half of a cracked silver mirror.

This, he thought sullenly, was all he had left of her.

Cautious, he replaced the box.


	93. Fatigue Fiascal

"Amazing," Hawkeye breaks in, sarcasm draping over his tone, "That after hours of commanding a bunch of kids into life-threatening situations, ordering slaughter on civilians, and torturing countless prisoners, you still have the energy to tell me, in great length, that I am out of uniform."

The General searches Hawkeye's eyes. Challenging, he answers, "I don't know the meaning of fatigue."

"Funny." BJ steps in, aware of Hawkeye's swiftly fading tolerance. "Hawk doesn't know the meaning of fatigues."

Hawkeye opens his mouth to retort, words at the ready.

Quickly, BJ drags his fellow surgeon away, avoidance his choice of strategy.


	94. First Brush

Elbow deep in college, Hawkeye hardly paid attention to the war in Europe. An ocean away, it was a world away to him -- his life was textbooks, papers, exams, not war, death, killing.

When America joined the fighting, Hawkeye couldn't ignore it completely. He rationed and rallied along with the rest, but could not find his heart in it. At best he found only guilt in not feeling as proud and loving as he should.

Years later, sitting in the Swamp, Hawkeye prays for the boy stateside who feels no love or pride, praying that he would never change.


	95. Jenny of Korea

The woman wanders into camp, bundle clutched in her arms, eyes yellow and wild. A steady stream of frantic Korean pours from her mouth as she presses the bundle toward passersby.

Once her urgency is translated, Hawkeye pulls her aside.

"Let me -- I'll help, I --"

"Milk!" She cries, demanding.

"Yes, just let me look --" Hawkeye holds his arms out, reaching for her child, smiling to show he meant no harm. Pushing the cloth aside, a gasp escapes him.

Hours later his sobs of the dead child's eyes echo about the camp, as BJ struggles to comfort him.


	96. More Than One Way

"They die more than they live, way I see it." Klinger slips out of the tent, anger flashing in his eyes.

Silently, Hawkeye agrees.

"We've got a ninety-eight percent chance of survival here!" Frank loudly protests.

"Even with a scalpel in Frank's hand and a live patient on his table." Trapper cracks a smile at Hawkeye, letting it fade as the dark-haired man ignores him.

Frank disregards this comment, muttering about 'ungrateful degenerates' of camp.

Suddenly, Hawkeye jumps to his feet, fuming to the door, calling over his shoulder. "There's more than one way to death, beating heart or no."


	97. Rockwell Dreams

"That's Peg." BJ points, flashing the photograph at Hawkeye. "There's her mother, the one holding Erin, and that's her father carving the turkey." He pauses, staring at the photo. Giving a wistful smile, he moves on to the next.

Hawkeye cranes his neck, squinting at the blurs. "And that?"

"Peg, Erin, and the dog. God, see how beautiful they are?" BJ hands the photo over. "Look at that, see what this damn war made me leave behind?"

"I see." Hawkeye allows a glance. "I see I'm bunking with Norman Rockwell's wildest dream."

BJ makes a face, snapping the photograph back.


	98. Scars Reside

When Sidney told his mother that he would be focusing on psychiatry, instead of the preferred pediatrics, she cried. Wailing about a ruined career, she pleaded for a reason why. Sidney simply said the psychiatry fascinated him.

Truth enough, though not all truth. But, he mused, how could he possibly reveal his aversion to the body, with its organs, gore, blood, and scars?

Especially the scars. Bumps of tortured flesh, reminders of true pain. Twisted skin fit to cover a gaping hole.

Sidney realizes, as a screaming patient is wheeled away, that not all scars reside on the body alone.


	99. The Conclusion to an Era

Slowly, mechanically, they begin to dismantle the still, piece by piece. They are silent, unable to talk around the lumps forming in their throats, movements steady and sure.

"You want the --"

"No, you keep it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Hawkeye is vaguely reminded of Carlye, and the aftermath of the first time she left. Sifting through possessions, deciding who kept what -- the end of the war seems too much like divorce for Hawkeye's liking.

"The conclusion of an era." Charles comments, watching as the still slowly becomes nothing more than a jumbled pile of instruments.

Hawkeye too readily agrees.


	100. They Said

Patriotism, they said, was the key to winning the war.

He figured that was why he was only a Private. He thought the key to winning was killing more of _them_ than they did of us.

Those godless commies, they said, appreciated nothing. They didn't love their mothers, apple pie, or even (horror of horrors!) their country. They would run themselves into the ground, he was told, if the army didn't step in.

Staring into a gun barrel, his own pointed at a kid years younger than himself, he wonders if patriotism is really all it's cracked up to be.


	101. Thunder

"It's like --" Hawkeye falters for a moment, and a moment is enough. "It's like the thunder, without the rain."

He waves at the room in vague drunkenness.

BJ cocks his head. "You're drunk."

Staggering on, oblivious or disregarding, it's hard to tell. "There's no rain, but the thunder keeps crashing." Once upon a time -- or was it today? -- there was a prince -- princess -- king -- peasant --

"Hawk?" A touch, a struggle to jar a man back into reality.

He forgets now, forgot years before. Reaching for a glass, he hopes to fill the emptiness.


	102. Welcome to War

"Norman Rockwell would have a fit with this one." BJ points to Frank lecturing on the importance of apple pie, swimming holes, and spreading the American ways.

"'Where once the flag goes up, it never comes down'." Hawkeye quotes, suppressing the urge to heckle.

"I wonder what he'd say if he knew this was about imperialism, not democracy."

"Utter disrespect for army ways." Hawkeye mutters. "I knew I liked you."

BJ grins, motioning at Frank. "What say you to some well-worded satirical comments about his hypocrisy?"

Hawkeye reaches a hand out. "Welcome to war, BJ Hunnicut. You'll fit in fine."


	103. What Practice Makes

"Nurse Ausiello -- just who I wanted to see. What would you say to a twenty-four hour pass in Seoul, courtesy of and accompanied by yours truly?"

"I'd say 'I'm married'."

---

"Nurse Berg, say someone were to offer you one blissful night --"

"No."

"Then --"

"No."

---

"Nurse Chae, how would you like to join me for dinner in the Supply Tent tonight? Me, homemade gin, fudge that BJ's wife just sent -- all the makings for a great time."

"Oh, sorry, but I just volunteered for bedpan duty."

---

"No luck finding a date, Hawk?"

Hawkeye glared.


	104. Decipher

"Pierce back yet?"

"No, sir." Radar stared at the paper clutched in his hand. Moments before, a young Korean girl had rushed into the office, handed the note over, and began frantically pointing at a jeep. Unable to understand her, the note itself illegible, Radar had sent her to Rosie for whatever help needed.

Now, squinting at the writing, he almost could make out the word 'help', and something vaguely resembling 'concession'. Sighing, Radar threw it away, handing Colonel Potter a stack of forms to sign.

Hours later, when Hawkeye had still not returned, he thought nothing of the note.


	105. Drink

"What," BJ sighs, falling onto the nearest bar stool, "A day."

"If a day is thirty-seven hours." Hawkeye wearily rubs an eye. "I could sleep for a week, wake up, and sleep for another."

"I don't think I'll ever wash the blood from my boots." BJ glances at his feet as images of Peg waving goodbye, Erin clutched in her arms, flood him. "This how it always is?"

Behind them, the jukebox blares to life. "Some days are easier. Some are harder. You get by."

BJ nods. "How 'bout a drink?"

Lifting a hand, Hawkeye halts him. "I don't drink."


	106. Elves

Silently, in the dead of night, they slip into the tent. Around them, light snores fill the room. They move quickly and lightly, with the ease of practice. Careful to not disturb the sleeping occupants, socks are gathered from the floor, footlockers, and the occasional tent post. There is work to be done, and they haven't much time.

Pausing at the curly-haired man's cot, socks strewn about, the head elf pauses. He knows his job, knows the job of his crew, but this -- shaking his head, he moves on.

No, even those socks are too much for his men.


	107. You'd Never Know

"And this is the Mess Tent, renowned home of nausea on a shingle. I'd invite you in for lunch, but I'm against senseless killing." Hawkeye flashed a crooked grin.

"What," BJ pointed, "Is that?"

"Corporal Max Klinger." Hawkeye suppressed a knowing look, watching the Corporal march across the compound. "An original if there ever was one."

Squinting for a better look, BJ couldn't argue. From the top of his neatly cut hair to the bottom of his shining boots, he certainly was different.

"Finest soldier this army's ever seen." Hawkeye sadly shook his head. "Never know he was a draftee."


	108. In Another Life

"In another life," Hawkeye breaks in, arms buried in a spleen, "There would be no war, no meatball surgery."

Across the room, Margaret seems vaguely interested.

"We'd all be home, with our families, and we'd know nothing about Korea." He pauses. "Suction."

The sound of scalpel slicing skin breaks the silence.

"Not one of us would have ever met," Hawkeye lifts a piece of shrapnel out, dropping it with a ping into a jar, "And we'd be that much happier for it."

BJ catches his eye, holding it. "Do you really think so?"

A significant look drives the point home.


	109. Kim

An accident, they called it. Accidents, he thought, were for skinned knees and singed hair, not death.

He avoided Margaret and Frank, assuring them he placed no guilt on their heads. Secretly, he wondered if he did.

When the mother arrived, receiving only remains in place of the son she was searching for, he avoided her too.

Memorial services were held, tears were shed, and repeatedly they muttered how very, very young. He didn't go, writing instead to the wife back home.

_Dear Louise_, it read, _this morning they buried the five-year-old Korean boy I was the proud father of_.


	110. A Foolish Thing

"When I was young," Potter begins, as Radar rushes about the office, "I told my father I wanted to be a doctor. He looked at me and said, 'Son, now why would you want to do a foolish thing like that?'"

Radar nods, listening without hearing.

"Well, I mustered up what courage I had, and looked him square in the eye. 'So I can get you off the drink,' I said." A pause. "That night, I got the belt."

Radar stops.

"Showed the old coot, I did it anyway." Potter sighs, signing his name to the forms marked Grave Registration.


	111. Memory

They whisper, as if at death's door, though there is no need. "How is he?"

Peg vaguely shrugs. "He has his days. More bad than good." As one, they both glance into the room.

Taking a deep breath, Hawkeye enters the room, stepping toward the man in the wheelchair. "Beej?"

Wary, BJ turns his head from the window.

Hawkeye sadly smiles. "How's it going, Beej?"

A blank look. "Mom's taking me to the lake today. Any minute now, she's coming for me." He turns away.

Hawkeye's face falls. Silently, he exits the room. Peg stares at him.

"A bad day."


	112. But Hawkeye Can't

The room is dark now, strips of sunlight fading fast. Daniel remains oblivious, eyes glazed and unfocused.

In the doorway, Hawkeye silently stands. There is tension laying throughout the house, tension so thick Hawkeye fears he'll be crushed. Faintly the sounds of neighborhood children waft into the room.

Daniel glances up, quizzically staring at Hawkeye as if he does not recognize his son.

"Dad?" Hawkeye takes a step forward. "Dad, you're scaring me."

Silence.

"Dad, I'm hungry."

"Hmm?" Daniel shakes himself, catching sight of the young boy for the first time. He fumbles. "Go ask you mother."

But Hawkeye can't.


	113. Catching Up

"You look wonderful."

"It's the booze."

A pause. "Hawk, don't be like this."

"I'm not being like anything." He runs a hand through his hair. "What're you doing here?"

She slides up right beside him, anxiously. "I've got a conference." Motioning for a bartender, she points at Hawkeye, muttering she would like the same.

"Careful. It's bitter sweet."

"Hawkeye, can't we be civilized? We're both mature adults, catching up on old times -- can we leave it at that?"

He stands. "You're divorced, I'm an old, broken man. There, we've caught up."

"Where are you going?"

"This time, I'm leaving."


	114. Connecting

BJ and Erin outside, Peg steals what moment she can to tackle the dishes. This is her time, her only chance for solitude, and if that means burying her arms in suds, she would do it.

Two dishes in, the phone rings. "Hunnicut residence."

The voice is gritty. "Hello? I'm looking for BJ Hunnicut. Tell him it's Hawkeye."

Peg pauses, arms dripping onto the floor. Edging to the side, she glances out the window, catching sight of a giggling Erin in her father's arms.

Three-thousand miles away, Hawkeye hears the distinct _click_ of the phone, followed by a dial tone.


	115. Last Kiss

There is nothing tender in their last kiss. It is hard, bruising, grabbing, and possessive. Bittersweet, he briefly thinks that this will be what he remembers for years to come.

He pulls her in, pressing her face to his, as if he can remind her of their love, as if he can mark her as his own. Instead, she pulls away.

"Please --" He reaches a hand out, pulling at her.

She shakes her head, ignoring the tear that threatens to fall.

"I'm sorry, Hawkeye. It's over." She leaves without a word, and suddenly their apartment seems cold and unwelcoming.


	116. Management

"It's not that I mean to pester --"

"No, I understand."

"We have six hours until we start shooting, and we really need an answer."

"I just -- I'm not sure I want to tie myself to a sitcom at this point. It's a wonderful pilot, but I don't think I want to be involved in turning war into comedy. I'm flattered --"

"No, that -- that's alright. Thank you for considering --"

"Of course. Good luck with the pilot."

Slowly he lowered the phone, turning to face the others. "He said no." A pause. "We need a new Hawkeye."


	117. Naming Names

"It's just--" Kiss. "--I'm not the kind of girl--" Kiss. "--To do this sort of thing--" Kiss. "--On the first date--"

Trapper's hand moves, working at her blouse buttons. "Nothing but trouble, those types."

"So all I ask for," Trapper's mouth slips to her neck, "Is respect."

"Of course. I respect you--uh--" There is a pause.

She freezes, and Trapper pulls away. "Go on, John."

". . . And I will in the morning."

"You'll respect who?"

Trapper is visibly uncomfortable. "You."

"And who am I?"

He sits up. "Lisa?"

Two hours later, nursing the handprint on his cheek, Trapper curses his memory.


	118. Omit

Over time, Peg learns to omit mention of the man down the street. Her letters say nothing of his smile or kind words; of the way he takes to Erin. She discovers BJ takes no comfort in knowing his family has someone they can turn to. For what Peg can make of BJ's coded letters, he was is aggravation enough and who is she to add to it?

She no longer reminds BJ of the young man, as if ignoring him will leave Peg free to ignore her thoughts of the words 'replacement'.

Peg notices BJ no longer mentions Hawkeye.


	119. Scribbles

Hawkeye squints, turning the paper around in circles in his hand. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure." BJ shrugs. "Peg says it's us, but I think it looks more like an elephant."

Hawkeye shakes his head. "You're both wrong. It's Uncle Pang's Bar and Bathhouse in Tokyo."

"I don't think Erin even knows what a bathhouse is." BJ reaches his hand out. "Let alone what one looks like." He smiles, eyes glued to the colorful scribbles. "I don't care what it is. It's better than anything else I've received this year."

Hawkeye grins, the other man's pride filling the room.


	120. Standing and Smelling Salts

Charles smiles, lowering the glass. "I stand before you, gentleman," He sweeps his arms, "Conscious and upright. Your swill's bark is worse than it's bite."

Hawkeye glances at BJ. "The first glass is easy. It's the second that bites." Charles reaches for another.

He smugly looks on as they hand him a third. He's not sure what they've been complaining about. Yes, it burned like fire, but he'd never let on. Hardly something to lead to the drunken antics they claimed. Though Winchesters did possess a high toler--

__

Thunk.

"Three glasses. Pay up."

BJ sighs. "I'll get the smelling salts."


End file.
